Page 68 of Famous Last Words
I bristle at his words. Although I don’t know if it’s because I like it or I hate it.
“Ready to go home,baby?” Robbie whispers all low and sexy, lips grazing the overly sensitive skin at the base of my neck and yeah, he’s good. He’s really,reallygood.
My smile is forced, teeth gritting together as I snatch my purse and stand from my bar stool.
“It was nice to meet you,” I say flatly at Maximus with zero semblance of sincerity becausefuck you and your delicious semen elixir.
Turning, I’m suddenly faced with Robbie’s broad chest, forced to crane my neck a little to find his unwavering and frankly terrifying gaze laser-focused on me. Sure, he’s grinning, but there’s an unspoken glint of threat in his eyes, and at the risk of sounding pathetic, it goes straight to my pussy.
“What are you even doing here?” I mutter.
Without an answer, Robbie takes my hand and turns, tugging me with him. And it’s only then that I notice he looks as if he rolled right out of bed. Baggy khakis, a hoodie, a beanie pulled low. How did he even get in here, given the strict dress code? Oh, yeah, that’s right; he’s a fucking hockey superstar. How could I forget.
“How did you know I was here?” I yell over the thrumming bass.
He either doesn’t hear me, or he’s ignoring me. I’m going with the latter.
I roll my eyes, but then as I glance toward the table where Vera and Hannah are watching on, their faces void of surprise as they wave me goodbye, and I suppose that answersthatquestion. Meddling assholes.
Keeping me close, his hold of my hand unrelenting, Robbie shoulders his way through the crowd with the kind of determination I expect he usually reserves for the ice. Head down, focused, an unstoppable force.
“Where are we going?” I yell again, even though I know he’s ignoring me like a dick.
Suddenly, we’re outside on the sidewalk, continuing past the line of people waiting to get into the club, past a group huddled together sharing a smoke, the cold night air whipping against my heated cheeks as it barrels down Bowery. It’s freezing, and that’s when I realize I left my coat inside.
“I forgot my coat,” I say, coming to a stop.
Robbie’s hold of my hand only tightens as he says over his shoulder, “Leave it.”
I balk, but I seem to have lost my voice because although it’s not something I would ever admit out loud at the risk of sounding like a pathetic twit, Robbie Mason being all demanding and forceful is all kinds of hot.
We stop at a black SUV idling at the curb, and Robbie opens the back passenger door for me. I hesitate before hopping in only because I’m shivering. Robbie climbs in close behind me before the car pulls out and continues around the corner and into the steady flow of traffic on Houston.
I glance sideways at Robbie, finding him stoic as he stares straight ahead, the streetlights illuminating his expressionless face. I don’t know if he’s pissed or not. In fact, if it weren’t for his bouncing knee, I’d almost assume he was catatonic.
“Robbie?”
He doesn’t even look at me, and now I’m even more pissed than I was before. Ignoring my messages is one thing. But ignoring me to my face is a whole other level of audacity he has no right to have.
“Where are we going?” I demand.
Again, no answer, but there’s a hint of a smirk that ghosts his lips, and it’s almost menacing. Shaking his head to himself, he scoffs, like he can’t believe I just asked him that.
I stare out at the streets we pass in a blur, my stomach twisting nervously, but then in no time at all, we’re rolling to a stop outside Allora, and I feel my heart lurch into the back of my throat.
“Thanks,” Robbie murmurs, opening the door and hopping out.
I half expect him to slam it shut in my face, but he doesn’t. Instead, he waits, staring in at me, that same stoic veil of indifference masking his face as he reaches a hand out for me.
With a muttered curse, I scoot across the seat as best as I can in my faux-leather skirt, desperately hoping it doesn’t make a fart noise as it rubs against the real leather interior. Thankfully it doesn’t, and I take Robbie’s hand with a forced smile as he helps me out.
At first, I’m unsteady on my heels, but I manage to collect myself, lifting my chin a little higher when he snakes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close, despite there being no one around this late at night for us to keep up the charade.
The night doorman nods, opening the glass door for us, and we continue inside, through the sleek lobby and directly to the elevator, Robbie’s arm still firmly situated around me. And I’m only thankful for the loud clacking of my heels on the shiny floor to help disguise the furious beating of my heart.
The elevator ride is silent, and even though it’s just the two of us, Robbie is still touching me, his hand resting at my lower back as he stares at something on his phone. I’m too busy freaking out internally over what the fuck is happening, but there’s a serious tension that has settled between us, the air alive with the kind of electricity that feels almost dangerous.
I stare straight ahead at our reflection in the mirrored doors, and I almost laugh at how ridiculous we look. Me in my sky-high heels, my tight as sin skirt and the even tighter bodysuit that looks more like lingerie, hair coiffed, lips stained a fire engine red. Robbie in his Air Force Ones, baggy skater-boy pants, and a Minnesota Gophers hoodie, two black eyes, a bandage across his nose, hair poking out under his beanie.
